


The Five Stages

by ComposerofDiscord



Category: Justice League: Gods and Monsters (2015)
Genre: Depression, Grieving, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-24
Updated: 2017-06-24
Packaged: 2018-11-18 08:23:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11287410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ComposerofDiscord/pseuds/ComposerofDiscord
Summary: There are five stages to grief. First stage is denial, then anger, bargaining, depression, and lastly acceptance. Kirk felt like he had hit all of them at once, except the last one. How could he ever make it to the last stage? Did anyone truly make it?





	The Five Stages

There are five stages to grief. First stage is denial, then anger, bargaining, depression, and lastly acceptance. Kirk felt like he had hit all of them at once, except the last one. How could he ever make it to the last stage? Did anyone truly make it? 

He had felt numb the first few weeks, a walking corpse in his house of memories. Every place he turned to, there was Hernan. A part of him lingered in every little nook and cranny of the house. He felt him in the cracks between the floorboards, the chippings of paint in the corner of the living room, and even that one kitchen drawer they always promised to get fixed but never did.

Anger had struck him a month and a half later. He awoke one night tearing the bedding to shreds when he could no longer smell the spice of Hernan’s aftershave. No matter how deeply he buried his nose in the fabric, nothing. Nothing but the saline of his tears and the sweat from those sleepless. The dark shreds fell upon shards of broken glass.

Kirk was not a religious man by far, but for the first time in his life he prayed. Two months after the incident he was on his knees before the Virgin Mary.

“Why?” he continued to ask her. “Why him?”

Of all the people she could have taken, him being the most deserving of her wrath, why Hernan? Why him? Kirk had never done anything in his life to have her mercy, but if he had done anything good in his life, if he could do anything to bring him back, he would.

“Please… take me instead. Take me in his place,” he pleaded as her craved wooden smile mocked him. She did nothing.

Three months after the incident and Kirk laid down on the bed he had made himself. Metal springs pierced through the mattress, and bits of foam oozed from its pores. Shreds of the bedding remained in Kirk’s open palm as he stared at the pieces of dark material.

Hernan had chosen it. Kirk didn’t mind. Hernan had chosen this bed, this mattress, and even the sheets for it too. He had chosen the flooring and most of the furniture, and the type of wood the kitchen cabinets would be made of. He built this place. He made it home, and all Kirk could see was it burning down.

He could see the four corners of the room up in smoke, the furniture blackening with every lick of flames, and then Hernan… He stood at the center of the room in his dark pants and collar shirt, smiling at him with his hand out for Kirk to take.

Kirk did, and Hernan held him. He held him tightly as their home, their world fell around them in ashes.

“Cuidate mucho,*” Hernan whispered in his ear. “Good bye, mi vida.*”

“Good bye… Hernan.”

Acceptance… Kirk never thought he’d ever fully accept what had happened, but he accepted the fact that Hernan was gone. He no longer looked for him in the four corners of the room. He no longer called out to him that he was home, or ask how his day was as soon as he walked through the door. Perhaps that was because he really did end up burning down everything. He burnt down the bed, the four corners of the room, and all the bridges that connected him to Hernan. All but this last one, the docks, where they first met.

It was where it all began, and where it would all end.

He stuffed all his memories, all the words he never said, into a small bottle and sealed it tightly. He sealed the past away in a glass bottle that contained only a picture of him and of Hernan. It was a picture of what was, and what would always be, the love of his life.

“Good bye, Hernan.”

Kirk watched as the sealed bottle drifted away. He didn’t know where it would go, or who would possibly get it if it ever landed upon shore again, but Kirk hoped that if anyone ever got it, they would know that there was love in the world. True and unconditional love. And even if that love was gone, life somehow went on.

**Author's Note:**

> _“Life’s not over, it’s just different.” –Christopher Warner_
> 
>  
> 
> *Take care/take good care of yourself/be careful – said typically when departing
> 
> *My life - I’ve been told this terms is not used lightly, but I’m not a native speaker so feel free to correct me
> 
> A/N: Please feel free to correct my poor Spanish. Also if it makes anyone feel better, I imagined Hernan floating in the middle of ocean when the bottle hits his head. “Got your message, babe.” Hopefully that makes up for the heartache.
> 
> Also, this was partly inspired by the mashup ["Slow Dancing in a Burning House"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1-RTMOcYz8s) sung by Louisa Wendorff.


End file.
